


Within These Walls: Book 1

by PastelSlytherin



Series: Ask Nothing More [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Good Slytherins, Help, Hogwarts Era, How Do I Tag, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Slytherin, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:01:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23292877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelSlytherin/pseuds/PastelSlytherin
Summary: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone if he'd sorted into Slytherin~Eventual Drarry//Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that. //
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Ask Nothing More [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724425
Comments: 22
Kudos: 176





	1. Not in the Cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I've been working on this idea for over a year now and I'm excited to finally get around to start posting. The idea is to go through the whole series, but I am bad about having long periods of time between updates. I've worked through a lot of this already so we'll seeeeee. Just in case, you've been warned.

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the Hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

 _Ah Potter._ A voice whispered. _Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, my goodness, yes- and a thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting…So where shall I put you?_

“Not Slytherin,” Harry thought, thinking of Malfoy’s pinched face and Hagrid telling him about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named back in the Leaky Cauldron.

_Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that._

Before Harry could respond, if he were even meant to, another voice seemed to whisper something that Harry couldn’t quite make out. He had an inkling that the confusion he felt wasn’t entirely his own.

 _This is highly unusual, sir._ The hat almost sounded doubtful and Harry wondered if the hat was even talking to him anymore. _I don’t appreciate interference. This is a private, honored tradition…_

More whispers. Then, _Very well. Let it be: SLYTHERIN!_

The last bit rang in Harry’s eats so loudly that he knew the whole hall had heard it. His heart sank and he moved out from under the hat even before McGonagall had lifted it, though maybe that had something to do with the way she was gaping at him. She wasn’t alone. The entire hall was silent. Harry took an uncertain step towards the table Malfoy had gone to. The table still hadn’t started cheering.

Harry met Ron’s eyes. Ron looked shocked, but he blinked and shrugged when he caught Harry looking at him.

“Go ahead, Potter,” McGonagall finally said, finally shaking herself from her reverie, “Take a seat.”

At the staff table, Dumbledore began to clap and the other teachers joined in. Harry hurried to join his table as McGonagall called the next name.

He took a seat next to the dark-haired girl that had been sorted just before him, who stared at him with a mix of surprise and reproach. Nevertheless, she passed him a silver and green tie. She and the others had already put theirs on, but Harry had never had to use a tie before so instead he twisted it in his lap.

Harry sat there miserably as the sorting went on until Ron was called to the stool. He turned back to watch, feeling ridiculously hopeful that his new friend might join him. But the hat had barely touched Ron’s fiery hair before it shouted, “Gryffindor!” Harry watched glumly as Ron jogged to join his brothers at the cheering scarlet table.

“Zabini, Blaise,” was sorted last into Slytherin and took the seat across from Harry. McGonagall lifted the stool and disappeared through the door behind the staff table as Dumbledore stood.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” Dumbledore took his seat and then the plates on the tables were suddenly filled with food.

It was more food than he’d seen in his life and looked a lot better than the sort of foods that Aunt Petunia usually set in front of him. He loaded his plate with chicken, potatoes, and sausages. There was also an odd little bottle labelled pumpkin juice that he took a cautious sip of, though it tasted more like it should be a flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans.

“Good lord, Potter. Planning to empty Hogwarts of all its stores?” Malfoy said nastily, “I’m surprised you could still be hungry considering all the rubbish you and Weasley had on the train.”

Harry felt wrong-footed about coming to Hogwarts for the first time. He slowed down though it was a bit difficult considering the Dursleys hadn’t been very generous to him ever since Hagrid had busted down their door to give Harry his letter.

On Pansy Parkinson’s other side, Malfoy boasted loudly about the broom his father would be buying him, between snide remarks about which Wizarding family would be most disappointed after the sorting and how the Weasleys’ robes were _especially_ worn this year.

It was hard for Harry to see Ron through the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, but Harry felt very sick that his new friend hadn’t turned to look at him even once. He thought they’d gotten along pretty well on the train, although he didn’t exactly have a lot of experience in the friends department. Still, he knew he would rather be sitting with Ron across the room than here with Malfoy.

“You don’t have to look so disappointed, Potter,” Parkinson said, elegantly cutting her chicken, “No one here is exactly pleased to have you either, you know.”

Harry scowled at her.

“But, “She continued, “We’d be dumb to ignore the opportunity this presents for us. And you’ll be sharing a house with us for seven years after all. It’ll be a lot smoother if we at least get on a bit.”

Harry would have groaned aloud if he thought it wouldn’t draw any more negative attention. He hadn’t thought about that yet, but McGonagall had said so, hadn’t she? He’d spend all of his time with the Slytherins, dormitory and classes and all.

“Not everyone has to worship him because of something he did when he was a baby. He’ll have to get used to not being the center of attention.” Malfoy sneered.

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here,” Harry snapped.

Parkinson raised an eyebrow at him, “If you want us to include you in the conversation, you’ve got to contribute, you know. You’re worse than Vincent.”

She offered him her hand.

“Pansy Parkinson. If you’re so set on making enemies in your own house, you’ll find I’d make a very good ally. I know a great deal about everything.” She said.

“That means she knows all the gossip,” Zabini said in a bored voice.

Parkinson scoffed, “It’s more than gossip. You should be able to recognize the importance-“

“Yeah, yeah. Pansy thinks she’s a proper reporter because her mother is an international journalist for the British Ministry of Magic.” Zabini said.

“She’s very respected,” Parkinson said to Harry, as if that should matter to him, “That’s Blaise Zabini. You’ve met Draco, obviously, and Crabbe and Goyle. Theodore Nott’s on your other side, and Daphne’s down there by Marcus Flint. He’s Quidditch captain, if you’re interested in that at all…”

“How do you all know each other already?” Harry asked.

Parkinson waved her hand, “We see each other at all the Ministry events. Everyone’s connected in the Wizarding World.”

“Everyone important,” Malfoy muttered.

“And several of our families are very close. The Malfoys, Notts, and Parkinsons are all listed on the Sacred Twenty-Eight, you know.”

“I don’t know why you keep bragging about that. You know the Longbottoms and Weasleys are on the list too.” Zabini pointed out.

“Ron’s on there?” Harry asked, interested at last.

“For now, though it’s only a matter of time before they’re taken off. That family’s the biggest bunch of blood traitors in Europe,” Parkinson explained.

“It’s the only thing they come first in,” Malfoy said spitefully, “That and poverty, I suppose.”

Harry scowled again and ignored him, instead looking back across the hall. He could see Ron talking to one of his brothers and one of the ghosts that had come into the hall. At the staff table, Hagrid waved when Harry caught his eye. Harry waved back feebly, but he felt even worse for disappointing him too.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” Malfoy said loudly, when he’d caught site of Harry’s wave.

“What exactly is the Sacred Twenty-Eight?” Harry asked Parkinson pointedly.

The rest of the meal passed quickly, with Harry mostly listening to Parkinson gossip about anything from pureblood politics to which Slytherins were most likely to make the Quidditch team this year.

Desert ended with the best treacle tart Harry had ever had (Mrs. Figg had made some once and ended up having to take one of her many cats to the vet) and soon they were following their prefect down to the dungeon to get ready for their first day of classes tomorrow.

Harry’s first week at Hogwarts was spent being steered around by Pansy as she bragged to everyone who listened that she was best friends with Harry Potter.

It was… different than how he’d been treated at the Dursley’s and it might have been better in some ways, but it didn’t make Harry feel good. It felt more like he was being used and Pansy wasn’t exactly super pleasant to be around even when they were alone. She was especially annoying when she treated him like an idiot. Which was all the time.

He started making a point of avoiding Pansy just to stay out of the public eye which meant that he spent a great deal sitting with Theodore Nott, who was mostly silent but at least he didn’t parade him around. Or glare at him constantly as Malfoy, and thus Crabbe and Goyle, were prone to do.

Ron, for the most part, turned scarlet whenever he and Harry exchanged glance, but he returned Harry’s wave with a hesitant one of his own. Harry gathered his courage on the first day of Potions, sidestepped Pansy, and walked up to Ron’s table where he had set his cauldron up next to Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan.

“Erm, hello.” Ron said mildly when Harry stopped uncertainly next to him.

“Hi,” Harry said, “Would you mind if maybe I sat with you?” Harry asked.

Ron glanced behind Harry, presumably at the Slytherins who had gathered at the front of the class. Pansy and Malfoy were openly glaring at them, but Harry didn’t care.

Harry turned back to Ron, “Look, we got along on the train, right? Before either of us were sorted. I know there’s the weird thing between out houses, but as far as I’m concerned, I still want to be friends.”

“Go on, then.” Ron said, shifting his bag off the chair next to him, “Better you than Hermione.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and took the seat, pulling out his potions book, “Thanks, I think I’d have offed myself if I had to sit with Pansy or Nott again.” Harry said just as Snape swept through the room.

Predictably, potions went badly but it was hard to be daunted when he and Ron walked out of the classroom talking as easily as they had on the train. Harry ended up inviting Ron with him to go visit Hagrid, which would probably cause Pansy to have an aneurysm if she’d heard.

All in all, the week ended in a high note that got progressively better as Harry learned the layout of the castle and spent more time with Ron. That is, until they got to flying class.

He and the rest of the Slytherins had already arrived. The others had picked over the brooms, looking for the straightest and calmest brooms while Harry picked a random broom as far from Malfoy as he could.

The Gryffindors arrived. Ron and Hermione Granger were arguing loudly, Ron’s face getting steadily redder and Hermione’s hair seeming to get bushier. Ron joined Harry at his broom furiously.

“What are you two arguing about, now?” Harry asked, watching Granger stop oddly as she had almost continued following Ron. Seeing Harry watching her, she turned on her heel and stood by Neville Longbottom, her face pinking slightly.

“She’s bloody annoying, you should share Transfiguration with her.” Ron said, shaking her head.

“Quiet, now,” Madam Hooch called briskly, taking her place at the head of the two lines, “Does everyone have a broom? Put your hand out over your broom and say, ‘up’.”

Feeling a bit dumb, Harry stuck out his hand. His broom zipped straight to his hand. Across the grass, Malfoy’s broom did the same. Next to him, Ron repeated a bit louder, only for his broom to turn over sharply on the ground. Neville’s didn’t even move.

Madam Hooch went around, showing them all the correct way to hold the broom, and then they were finally able to kick off the ground. Neville did a bit more than that.

As Madam Hooch escorted Neville to the Hospital Wing, Malfoy bent and scooped a clear, glass ball from the grass.

“Look, it’s that stupid thing Longbottom opened at breakfast. I think I’ll put it somewhere for him to find- up a tree?” Malfoy said gleefully.

Harry didn’t know what it was, but he hardly felt that mattered. He’d had enough of Malfoy’s antics.

“Give it here,” Harry said sharply. Malfoy looked at him, his mouth curling into a smirk.

“Come and get it, Potter,” He said. He leapt onto his broomtick and took off.

Harry mounted his own broom, but Hermione Granger, who Harry hadn’t personally said a word to since the train, rushed up to him and grabbed his sleeve.

“No! Madam Hooch said not to move. You’ll get us all into trouble,” She shouted.

Harry shook her off and kicked off the ground. Flying was easier than he’d expected- in fact he could have whooped with joy at how fun- and effortless for him- it was. He heard Ron whoop and scattered cheers from the Gryffindors as he turned to face Malfoy.

“Give it here,” Harry called, feeling confident, “Or I’ll knock you off your broom.”

“Oh, yeah?” Malfoy said, trying to sneer but looking worried.

Harry shot at Malfoy, who jerked out of the way and shouted, “Catch it if you can, then!”

He threw the ball high into the air. Without thinking, Harry leant forward and hurtled towards the ball. He caught it a moment before it hit the ground. He had a moment sitting in the grass to feel proud of himself before-

“HARRY POTTER!”

McGonagall was running towards them from the castle.

“Never, in all my time at Hogwarts,“ Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously,”how dare you, might have broken your neck,“

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor–“ Padma Patil protested and Harry looked at her in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to stand up for someone in Slytherin. Though she’d probably been thinking the same thing about him.

“Be quiet, Miss Patil–“

“But Malfoy–“ Ron started. 

“That’s enough, Mr Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.” McGongall said sharply.

Harry glanced back at the others as he went. Ron looked sympathetic, Granger scandalized, and Malfoy was looking particularly triumphant.

He followed McGonagall to her office silently. His first few weeks at Hogwarts had been pretty hit-and-miss but he thought it would get better now that he was making friends outside of Slytherin. Even if it wouldn’t, he didn’t think Slytherin was worse than the Dursley’s. He felt sick just thinking about going back.

“Sit down, Potter.” McGonagall said briskly, and Harry sat numbly in the chair as she settled across from him at her desk.

McGonagall regarded him, and Harry did his best to look contrite.

“Potter, I certainly wish you had been sorted into Gryffindor,” McGonagall finally said.

Harry looked up at her. That sounded like an odd way to word his expulsion.

She looked less angry now but definitely disappointed.

“You’re a natural flyer. Was that your first time on a broomstick?” At Harry’s nod, she shook her head, “Unbelievable! And here I thought Gryffindor would be able to break Slytherin’s winning streak.”

Harry had no clue what to say. McGonagall’s eyes suddenly softened.

“Your father would have been proud," she said. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself.”

Harry was stunned.

“Listen, Potter, if you were in Gryffindor, I would put you on the Quidditch team this year if I could. I’m afraid Severus wouldn’t be so willing. Keep that in mind for next year. I will keep this between us for now, but another risky act like that…I can’t promise Severus won’t find out.”

“You’re letting me off?” Harry asked, astounded.

“No, Mr. Potter, I most certainly am not.” She said sternly, “10 points from Slytherin and besides that, I think it might be in your best interests to at least be civil with Mr. Malfoy. It’s very hard to share a living space with a rival.”

Harry frowned but McGonagall was handing the remembrall back to him.

“Do me a favor and give that back to Longbottom. Godric knows he’ll need it.”

“Draco,” Pansy sniffed the next morning at breakfast. Draco looked up from his toast.

Harry Potter was walking into the Great Hall, dressed in his robes and with his school bag over his shoulder. He made his way to the end of the Slytherin table to sit alone.

“No way. I thought McGonagall had him for sure,” Draco said, craning his head to stare. Harry was now waving across the hall at Ron who was flashing him a thumbs up.

“He _is_ Harry Potter. Maybe it was a bit much to expect he’d be expelled within the first month,” Pansy said reasonably.

“It’s a bit much to think he’d be expelled at all, and you should give it up,” Blaise said, “I know you have a weird idolizing/rivalry thing going on, but he’s not bad. He’s doing well in our classes, all things considered, and-“

“Shut up,” Malfoy hissed, “He’s arrogant and full of himself and-“

“Are you sure we’re not talking about you?” Blaise said coolly.

“You can be a little prickly.” Pansy said.

“I am not prickly, and he is not Slytherin material. Do you not realize what our parents would think if we become all buddy-buddy with Harry Potter? The one who ruined most of these people’s families,” Draco gestured around at the other Slytherins.

“Please, you’ve hardly been ruined.” Blaise scoffed, “Your dad is basically Fudge’s pet. You’re as rich as ever.”

“And mom prefers journaling, I can tell. I don’t think I’d prefer to have dad home either.” Pansy said.

“Don’t even get me started on the journaling,” Draco warned.

“Get over yourself. He’s here, and if you think anyone’s going to kick him out, then you’re mad.” Blaise picked up his bag.

“You know I hate when he’s right, but this is one of those times.” Pansy said consolingly, “I don’t like him either, especially since he prefers hanging with

Weasley. But it doesn’t make sense to keep making trouble. Sooner or later, you’ll be caught in the fire.” Pansy took one last sip of her orange juice before following Blaise.

At the end of the table, Harry got up and met Weasley at the door. Before he could think it through, Draco pushed away from the table and hurried after them.

“Bragging about how you’re the next teacher’s pet, Potter?” Malfoy called, against his (well, Blaise’s) better judgement.

Ron muttered something to Harry before they both turned. Harry looked irritated, but smug enough that Malfoy was sure that he hadn’t gotten in trouble the day before. His hair, at least, was as messy as ever.

“Back off, Malfoy. You’d think you’d give it a rest after yesterday.” Harry snapped.

“What? That little show? I could have caught that in my sleep,” Draco had actually been stunned. He hadn’t thought Harry had ever been on a broom before, “Though not all of us have dead parents and scars to keep us out of trouble.”

“You sure do enough wriggling out of trouble of your own,” Weasley retorted, “I guess that’s what happens when your parents are snakes.

“I don’t _wriggle_ ,” Draco said, affronted.

“Then prove it. Wizard’s Duel. Tonight.” Weasley said.

“I don’t have anything to prove to you, Weasel. Maybe if we were to have a battle of pigs. Your family would really take the cake.” Draco sneered.

“Then I’ll do it,” Harry said quickly, grabbing Weasley’s shoulder.

“Have you even heard of a Wizard’s duel?” Draco scoffed.

“Of course, he has. I’ll be his second. Who’s yours?” Weasley said.

Draco considered his friends, “Crabbe. The trophy room at midnight. Let me know if you chicken out so I don’t waste my time.” 

He flounced away. Blaise would be exasperated, Pansy disapproving, Crabbe excited. It was a little quick for another scheme, but Draco couldn’t help himself. Something about Harry Potter drove him up the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments/concerns/ideas would be appreciated. I am starved for human interaction so I will accept love in any form. At least I'll have time to work on this:)))
> 
> Also, I'm following the book pretty closely in the first and second one because I genuinely don't think a lot of it would change. After that, I'll be taking more liberties of my own. That said, I'll do my best not to regurgitate the original books when getting across the same, but important, events.


	2. There Are Mountains

Harry left the common room early to meet Ron by the trophy room. Ron arrived a few minutes late, with a seething Hermione Granger and a pale Neville Longbottom with them.

“What-?” Harry asked and Ron shook his head angrily.

“It’s complicated. I had to tell them and then we all got locked out of the tower.” Ron said and looked around the corner into the trophy room.

“This is _so_ irresponsible,” Hermione started, bristling at Harry like a cat. She was wearing a bubble-gum pink robe over her pajamas. It didn’t make her look any less frightening.

“No one asked you to come!” Ron hissed angrily, sounding as if he’d already said so a dozen times on their way to the trophy room, “You _followed_ me-“

“Because you’re going to lose all of Gryffindor’s points and you,” She pointed at Harry, “are going to get yourself expelled.”

“Shut up!” Harry snapped, pulling her flat against the wall. He’d just heard a noise from a nearby room. Neville squeaked nervously.

Harry rummaged in his own pocket for his wand but had yet to draw it out when he heard a sickeningly-familiar voice.

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”

“Oh no,” Ron moaned, “Thanks, Hermione. You’ve gone and got us all caught.”

Hermione opened her mouth, her eyes flashing, but Harry waved to get their attention.

He pointed down the hall towards the door at the far end that would eventually lead to the Grand Staircase. They crept but they’d hardly gone a few paces when Harry heard another frightened squeak followed by a startled yell from Ron and then crashing as Neville tackled Ron into a suit of armor. They all crashed to the floor. Harry and Hermione looked at each other. If possible, Hermione looked even more murderous.

“WHAT THE-“ Ron swore, but Harry yanked Neville to his feet and they were all flat-out running down the corridor and then the next. Ron, who was tallest, pulled ahead and Harry hardly thought about it before following him.

They ended up somewhere on the third floor that Harry vaguely recognized. Harry bent over to catch his breath. Neville sank to the floor, wheezing. Predictably, it wasn’t long before Hermione broke the silence.

"That wasn’t my fault,” Hermione gasped, “You _know_ Malfoy set you up. He was never going to meet you, he must have tipped Filch off-”

“Yes, thank you,” Harry interrupted her, “I think we lost him.”

“We’ve all got to get back. Harry, you can get back?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, if we can get to the staircase, I’ll have no problem.” Harry said.

“I can’t believe that just happened, I can’t believe we all just nearly got expelled because of some stupid duel-“

“For the last time, no one asked you to come!” Ron growled at her.

“Yes, I see now I should have just reported you to Filch,” Hermione said coolly.

"Come on, let’s just focus on getting back.” Harry said.

Unfortunately, just as he said that, a door rattled behind them and Peeves the Poltergeist soared out into the corridor. Harry groaned. He didn’t know how things kept getting worse.

Peeves grinned when he caught sight of them, swooping close and whooping loudly.

"No, Peeves, please be quiet. You’ll get us caught,” Harry said anxiously.

“Wandering after hours, are you, ickle firsties?” Peeves cackled, “Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caught. Should tell Filch I should. It’s for your own good, you know.”

“Get out of the way,” Ron said, who Harry guessed was quite done with the night at that point. He swung at Peeves who exploded with noise.

“Go!” Hermione cried, shoving Harry’s shoulder.

They all ran through Peeves all the way to the end of the corridor.

“It’s locked! We’re dead!” Ron said, yanking on the door handle.

Hermione shoved past him and Harry, grabbing Harry’s wand which had still been clenched in his sweaty hand.

“Alohomora!”

They wasted no time in piling into the room, Harry slamming the door closed behind them. Harry pressed his ear to the door, Ron and Hermione on either side. It took a minute to calm their breathing down enough to hear anything.

“He thinks the door is locked,” Harry whispered, waving Neville off who’d been pulling his sleeve.

He turned around- and the bottom of his stomach dropped. Somehow, the night had gotten even worse. He was going to _kill_ Malfoy.

Standing in the center of the room was a three-headed dog, all six eyes blinking blearily as it stirred. It must have been asleep when they entered but it was quickly waking up. The only thing louder than it’s growls was Harry’s heartbeat in his ears. He turned and opened the door and threw himself out, the others on his heels. They were running again- Ron once again pulling ahead. If Harry had been thinking clearly, he would have paid more attention to where they were going, but as it was, he followed the Gryffindors all the way to the seventh floor. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Harry had seen it before but hadn’t known it was the Gryffindor common room.

Ron didn’t hesitate in sputtering, “Pig snout!” at the Fat Lady. Either she didn’t see Harry or she was too startled to mind because she swung open and Harry scrambled through the portrait hole with the rest of them.

Neville collapsed into a fluffy armchair by a roaring fire. He was white, covered in sweat, and clutching at his chest. Ron spoke first.

“Sorry, Harry, I just ran for it. Can you make it back?” He gasped.

Harry could only nod.

“What’s Dumbledore playing at, keeping a thing like that in a school?” Ron continued, shrugging off his dress robe and throwing it on another armchair and wiping his forehead.

Hermione straightened, looking as if she’d recovered enough to be angry at them again.

“Did any of you even look at what it was standing on?” She snapped.

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something."

She glared at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed -- or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open.

"No, we don't mind," he said. "She literally followed me out of the tower, it was like someone had cast a permanent sticking charm…”

But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he made his way back to his dormitory. He remembered the little package that Hagrid had grabbed when they’d gone to Gringotts before term had began. Now that he was thinking about it, hadn’t Hagrid said that Hogwarts might be the only place safer than Gringotts?

As soon as he made it to his own dorm, he yanked Malfoy’s hangings aside. Malfoy, dressed in silk pajamas and with hair free of his usual product, jerked awake with a frightened noise, clutching his blanket close to his chest.

“You’re a tosser, you know that? I want you to know that you almost got us killed tonight. And don’t think that if you had gotten me expelled, I wouldn’t have come to murder you.” Harry growled.

Malfoy gaped at him, looking a little afraid of him for once.

“Try to get me expelled again, and you’ll see why I was sorted Slytherin.” Harry said then stormed across the room to his own bed, feeling like he had gotten the better of Malfoy for the first time.

The next morning, Harry sat by himself at the end of the Slytherin table. He could feel the usual Slytherin’s eyes on him, though Malfoy quickly glanced away whenever Harry stared back. Harry felt a sense of satisfaction that he’d only really felt when he’d caught Neville’s remembrall in midair.

Harry caught up to Ron as he was leaving the Great Hall to tell him about the package from Gringotts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry.

The days passed quickly after that and soon they’d been at Hogwarts for two months. Hermione and Malfoy stayed insufferable as ever, though Malfoy had stopped picking fights at least, and the other Slytherins must have noticed that he’d finally let Harry alone after that night. Pansy was colder to him than she had been all year. Malfoy must have told her what happened. Either that or she had made her own deductions. Hermione had resolutely ignored Harry whenever they passed in the hallways or in classes and Ron said she’d been just as angry with him.

Still, the castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. Ron was as great a friend as Harry could imagine and he found that ignoring the Slytherins was almost easy when he was there. He’d never had friends before.

His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics. He found that he was not as behind as the rest of the year as he would have thought. The only classes that he really struggled with were potions and history of magic, which he attributed more to the professors than his own lack of abilities.

And then it was Halloween.

When Harry entered the Great Hall after classes, he found that it was elaborately decorated. The enchanted ceiling was dark as the night outside but candles floated mid-air and bats swooped over people’s heads. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet. Harry didn’t mind that he sat alone, even, because this was the first big feast since the sorting.

Not that he had to sit alone for long, though, because the doors were suddenly thrown open loudly and Professor Quirrell came storming in. 

Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

“What happens if our dormitory is in the dungeons?” Pansy asked, shrilly, as chaos fell over the Great Hall. Everyone started pushing toward the doors as the prefects called for order. Harry could hear Percy Weasley yelling from across the hall.

Harry went to join the line of Slytherins being led to the courtyard but stopped dead after a moment. He’d heard some of the Slytherins earlier talking about a girl crying in the bathroom, Pansy had said it was the Granger girl. Ron had looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

People were pushing past him and he heard a snide, familiar voice just behind them.

“Honestly, how thick could you get? Potter, didn’t you hear we’re going to the courtyard?”

He didn’t know what to do. Should he tell someone? He couldn’t see Ron anymore, the last of the Gryffindors in the Hall seemed to be seventh years.

“ _Potter_.”

The teachers had gone through the door behind the staff table, presumably to deal with the troll. No one had thought about the students not in the Great Hall. Harry couldn’t do anything about the others, but there was one he knew for sure could be in danger. Could he live with himself if he didn’t at least let her know?

Someone shoved Harry hard and he whirled around to see Malfoy scowling at him, paler than usual and looking scared.

“Just go, Malfoy. Can’t you see I’m busy here?” Harry snapped.

Malfoy followed him to the door, hissing like an angry cat. Especially when they veered from the other Slytherins and joined a group of Hufflepuffs.

“Shut up, Malfoy. Go outside if you’re so scared.” He said again when he tried to pull Harry’s robes when Harry ignored him.

“What are you _doing_?”

Harry ignored him yet again and they slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

“A prefect!” Malfoy whispered and Harry ducked behind a large stone griffin, Malfoy hurrying to join him.

Peering around it, however, they saw not a prefect but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered. "Why isn't he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

“Does it matter? What are we doing?” Draco said hotly.

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape's fading footsteps.

"He's heading for the third floor," Harry said, but Malfoy suddenly pressed a hand over his nose.

"Can you smell something?"

Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it -- a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet -- at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

“Merlin.” Malfoy whispered, somehow even paler and slumping against the wall in fright.

"The keys in the lock," Harry muttered. "We could lock it in."

"Don’t be stupid,” Malfoy said weakly, “That’s the girl’s bathroom.”

Then they heard something that made their hearts stop -- a high, petrified scream -- and it was coming from the bathroom.

Before Draco could stop him, Harry was running for the door to the bathroom and throwing it open. He disappeared inside.

Draco sat stunned for a moment but ultimately, he didn’t see much choice. Harry was useless a majority of the time, and even if Draco wanted to go find help, it would be far too late for Harry or Hermione Granger.

He followed him.

Inside, Hermione was cowering against the far wall, looking pale and as if she would faint any second. The troll was heading straight for her, knocking sinks off the wall that shot sprays of water high in the air and porcelain shards scattering everywhere.

Draco had obviously read about trolls before. He’d even seen pictures and his father had a pristine skull hidden in one of the dark corners of their private library. None of that was enough to prepare him for the real thing. The stench that they’d caught a whiff of outside was so much more concentrated now that they were in an enclosed space. It was huge, standing twelve feet tall and it’s wooden club could swat him like a doxie.

“Do something!” Harry called to Draco and he bent to grab something from the floor and threw it at the troll. He missed- honestly, this guy was supposed to be a good Quidditch player? But it hit the wall hard enough to grab the troll’s attention.

It turned and saw Harry. It lumbered stupidly at him, dragging its club as he went.

Again, there was no other course of action as far as Draco could see. He drew out his wand.

“Oaf!” He shouted, shooting sparks from his wand from by the stalls. Harry made a beeline for Granger.

“Come on, run, run!” Harry yelled at her, trying to pull her towards the door, but she wouldn’t move. She sank further down the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The troll roared and then it was charging at Draco, who realized belatedly that he had left himself with no other route of escape. He would have cursed himself for his stupidity if he hadn’t been staring down a fully grown mountain troll in a girl’s lavatory.

Then Harry was somehow hanging from the troll’s back, arms locked around it’s neck, clinging for dear life as the troll jerked and swung his club. Draco ducked for safety and found himself near Granger. The troll’s club nearly caught Harry and Draco raised his wand again.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” He shouted.

The club slipped out of the troll’s fist and rose high into the air. Then it fell back down on the troll’s head. It swayed and then collapsed forward with a great crash.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath.

Draco lowered his wand and his legs seemed to give out so that he sat hard on the wet floor of the bathroom. He raised a hand to his head and was surprised to discover that a shard from a toilet had left a gash on his forehead that was leaking blood into his eyes. All of this was embarrassing enough, but he also realized that he had been the only one who’d been injured. Granger surprisingly spoke first.

"Is it -- dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry, “I think it's just been knocked out."

There was another loud crash and then Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Quirrell had burst into the room. Of course they had to have heard the fight from below. Quirrell took one look at the and then sat hard on the last remaining toilet.

Draco wondered at the sight they made: two Slytherin and one Gryffindor first-year gathered around a downed troll.

Snape bent over the troll but Professor McGonagall was looking at them all so angrily that her lips were white. Draco hadn’t ever seen her so angry, even that day in flying class when Harry had been caught.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape stood and seemed to notice Draco for the first time. His furious expression had previously been levied at Harry, but it had been tinged with something that looked like triumph. Now he was staring at Draco as if Draco had grown a second head. The triumph disappeared so quickly that Draco wondered if it had ever been there at all. 

Then Granger spoke again, "Please, Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

At some point while Draco had been watching Snape, she’d gotten to her feet and left Draco to be the only one still on the floor. He gaped at her as he picked himself up finally. From what he’d witnessed, she hadn’t seemed very fond of Harry, and he certainly wouldn’t have expected her to come to _his_ defense.

"I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them."

Harry met Draco’s eyes. He looked as stunned as Draco felt.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Malfoy, er Draco, knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Each of the professor’s looked surprised at this admission as well.

"Well -- in that case... " said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own? Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Granger left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Draco and Harry

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. Severus, I think five points each would be a fair reward, don’t you?”

Again, Snape was looking at Harry oddly. Draco knew that Snape hated Harry. It was perfectly obvious to anyone watching, but he hadn’t thought it extended much beyond Harry being the boy who lived. Now, he was certain that rewarding Harry had been the last thing Snape had planned.

Instead he nodded stiffly.

“Go back to the dungeons, Potter. I’m sure the rest of the house will be there shortly,” He said softly, “And may I say, it is…surprising that the two of you seem to be becoming fast friends considering past events. Draco, allow me to escort you to the hospital wing.”

His eyes lingered on Draco. At any other point, he would have leaped at the chance to have private conversation with Professor Snape. At the moment, he would have preferred to face another mountain troll. 

Harry seemed to hesitate. He seemed thick enough most of the time, especially where it concerned the finer points of pureblood politics, but there was something shrewd in his eyes now as he looked between Draco and Snape.

“Come along, Potter,” McGonagall said, sounding a lot gentler than she had moments before.

Draco watched them leave together and then followed Snape out. He could only hope he could convince Snape not to write home about this incident, or he wasn’t so sure he’d enjoy going home for Christmas this year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Any comments/concerns always appreciated.


	3. It Feels Impossible

Harry was in the Slytherin common room for a change. It wasn’t as bad as Harry feared. The rest of their year largely ignored him ever since the troll thing happened with Malfoy, who seemed more nervous around Harry than ever. Usually, the older students whispered about him and sometimes cast annoying little spells that messed with whatever he happened to be working on, but this close to Christmas, all he got were a few dirty looks.

Ron had gone to convince Percy to let him borrow Errol, while Hermione was supposed to be packing to go home for Christmas. While Harry and Hermione were friends now, she and Ron were on very fragile speaking terms that usually lasted until Harry had to go. If he were worried about them growing closer without him, he didn’t have to. 

He hadn’t really ever had a good Christmas with the Dursley’s and he couldn’t remember the one when he was a few months old. It was looking like this one might be decent though, especially since Ron would also be staying at Hogwarts.

“Potter…” A voice suddenly said. Harry looked up to see Malfoy, standing next to the empty armchair with a book, looking like a bird ready to take flight.

Harry hadn’t, despite living in the same room as him, spoken to Malfoy since Halloween, which given their track record was probably a good thing.

When Harry just looked at him, Malfoy’s cheeks pinked a little and he sat gingerly in the armchair.

“Are you going home for Christmas?” Harry asked after a moment of silence.

Malfoy glanced up from his book, seemed to debate with himself if he could hold a civil conversation with him, and then cleared his throat.

“Yes. Mother and father have been looking forward to having me home,” A beat, “And you?”

It was a dumb question. Everyone in Slytherin knew he’d be staying.

“I’m staying,” He stared at Malfoy as if daring him to say anything and Malfoy responded by looking back down at his book.

“Did you see the Weasley’s and the snowballs they bewitched to attack Quirrell?” Harry asked when the silence grew to be too much for him.

Malfoy looked back up, some slight annoyance on his face but he took a deep breath.

“No, I didn’t see but I heard about it.”

Another conversation that led nowhere. Harry thought about leaving but that seemed rude since Malfoy basically just sat down and anyway, he was only halfway through his transfiguration essay.

He was working through a particularly difficult paragraph when Draco spoke again.

“Would you care for a chocolate frog?” He asked stiffly.

“Um, yeah, thanks.” He took the offered frog and opened it, “Oh, I got Merlin. Do you collect the cards?”

Malfoy straightened imperiously, “I used to but then father said it was too childish to take to Hogwarts. I binned them my first night here.”

“Right,” Harry said, tucking the card into his bag, “Well. I don’t know if Ron has Merlin yet or not.”

“Did you know Merlin was in Slytherin? Quite a famous figure.” Malfoy asked when Harry picked up his quill again.

“I think I remember something about that from History of Magic.” Harry replied.

They fell into another awkward pause but Harry had the odd feeling that Malfoy was trying to be friendly, so he took another bite of his frog and shifted his essay.

“Have you finished this yet?” He asked. Malfoy glanced at his title then nodded.

“I usually try and finish everything a few days after they’re assigned so it doesn’t build up the night before. It’s a habit father warned me not to fall into.” He added hastily at Harry’s dark look.

“Yeah, I guess I have a problem with that. Hermione always nags me about it…”

“How is Granger? After Halloween.”

Harry glanced at his face to see if he was being serious but it was carefully blank.

“She wasn’t hurt or anything. And it’s been over a month so…”

Malfoy flushed pink again and Harry wished he were anywhere else. Why was this conversation so awkward? He sort of wished they would go back to fighting all the time.

“I should properly thank you. For saving me with the club. I really thought I was a goner there for a minute.”

“Yeah, well. What’s the point of surviving the Dark Lord if you get offed by a random mountain troll?” Malfoy shrugged, “You saved me first by jumping on its back. Why did you do that by the way?”

“I don’t know really. It was the only thing I could think to do. It was a bit stupid, wasn’t it?” Harry laughed.

Malfoy hummed at his book, “It was certainly a very Gryffindor thing to do.”

Malfoy reached for his own chocolate frog and the two sat in half-way companionable silence while Harry worked on his essay.

“Here. Weasley must have Dumbledore already but if you want to start your own collection,” Malfoy tossed his card on top of Harry’s paper, “He probably already has Merlin too, he really is a famous- Potter?”

Harry had picked up the card and was staring at it with his mouth open. He knew he had seen it before.

“Nicholas Flamel. Nicholas Flamel! This is it, this is where I’ve seen the name.” Harry exclaimed.

“The alchemist?” Malfoy asked.

“Yes, what do you know about him?”

“Not much. I know he was born in the early 1300s in France, he graduated from Beauxbatons, and he’s done some very famous alchemical work on the elixir of life. And, of course, everyone knows about the whole deal with Grindewald.”

Harry didn’t know what a lot of those words meant but alchemy, at least, seemed relevant to Dumbledore.

“What’s the elixir of life?” He demanded.

Malfoy frowned, “What’s all this about? Why are you suddenly curious about Nicholas Flamel?”

“You don’t know what I’ve been curious about,” Harry said defensively, “I’m interested in…alchemy.”

Malfoy gave him an unimpressed look.

“Okay, it’s…complicated. I can’t tell you why.”

“Why not?” Malfoy demanded.

Harry just scratched out his next sentence. There was no way he could tell Malfoy about any of this. He just didn’t trust him, even if he had saved Harry’s life on Halloween and inadvertently helped his investigation just now. Besides, Malfoy was right. Harry had saved his life first.

Malfoy huffed and slammed his book closed.

“Fine,” He said, jumping to his feet, and Harry winced when Slytherins turned to stare at them, “I was trying to be nice to you, Potter. I see now that I shouldn’t have bothered.” Then he stormed off to their dormitory.

Harry sighed, wondering what his next move should be. He could stay here and be glared at by his housemates or he could go upstairs where Malfoy had just stormed off to.

He scowled and packed up his own things. It was too late to find Ron or go to the library, but he could pull the curtains closed around his bed. It was better than being glared at.

Hermione, funnily enough, didn’t have time to explain Nicholas Flamel the next morning on her way to board the train, though she was very excited when Harry showed her the chocolate frog card.

“We’ll go straight to the library when I get back. This is brilliant!” She shouted as she joined the crowd of students following Filch.

“Good going, mate. Now we’ve got the whole break to relax.” Ron said. He had also read the card and admitted that the name sounded vaguely familiar.

Harry saw familiar blonde hair in the corner of his eye and couldn’t help but turn to see Malfoy talking to Pansy. He turned and caught Harry’s eye. His face immediately shifted to a scowl and Pansy whipped her head to look at Harry too. She pursed her lips.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere else.” Harry muttered.

They ended up having a snowball fight with the twins for several hours and when they came back for lunch, they were soaking wet and starving.

“I sure could use some of Hermione’s blue fire.” Ron shivered as they walked in and took their seats at the end of the table. Harry was glad Dumbledore had foregone the usual house tables because sitting with Ron and his brothers was way better than eating alone at Slytherin.

The rest of the day passed in similar fashion and by the time Harry returned to his empty dormitory, he was grinning in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

When Harry woke up on Christmas morning, it was to a pile of presents on his bed. On the top was a letter.

He cast the presents a curious glance before opening the letter.

_Merry Christmas!_

_You should have gotten mum’s present, but I wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas too!_

_See you in a bit at breakfast!_

_Hope it’s alright I used Hedwig. She seemed keen._

It was very obviously Ron’s handwriting, though he hadn’t bothered signing. Harry smoothed Hedwig’s feathers with his knuckle, feeling much warmer than he ever had, even here in the dungeons alone.

He opened the rest of his presents. He had gotten a package of chocolate frogs from Hermione, a hand-carved wooden flute from Hagrid- Harry blew it -- it sounded a bit like an owl, and a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge from the Weasleys. Harry had also been sent a fifty-pence from the Dursleys, which was more than he had even expected.

“What rubbish.” Harry said, scoffing, and threw it across the room. It landed on Malfoy’s bed. It made Harry more irritable.

He opened his last present. Something fluid and silvery gray slithered to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds.

Harry picked it up and frowned at the note. It hadn’t been signed.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died._

_It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A Very Merry Christmas to you._

Unlike Ron’s note, Harry didn’t recognize the handwriting at all. He set it asife and picked the fabric up from the floor. The fabric felt nice and he settled it across his shoulders. Hedwig hooted in alarm.

Harry glanced up from the note and then almost choked on his own spit. In Malfoy’s full-length mirror facing him, his body had gone. His head was all that remained visible.

“What?” He said stupidly.

He messed around with it a while longer, even going as far as to drape it over various surfaces to test its usefulness. Hedwig snapped her beak at him when he approached her with it.

“I’ll ask Ron,” He said to himself. Ron might know what it is. And who had sent it.

Had it really once belonged to his father?

Harry carefully put away his presents, and folded the cloak neatly into his trunk. He got dressed and went to find Ron in the great hall.

The Weasley’s were all already at the table. They each had on sweaters.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look – he’s got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G. Ron had maroon.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," said Fred, examining Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid -- we know we're called Gred and Forge."

“It’s lovely,” Harry said, “Would you tell your mum thank you?”

“Yeah, I told her you weren’t expecting any presents and…Well, she always knits us sweaters. And mine are always maroon.” Ron looked glumly at his own sweater, “I hate maroon.”

Breakfast was delicious as always, but the twins swore that Christmas dinner was the best part. Harry dragged Ron back to the dungeons before they could insist on going outside.

“Are you sure I can come in here?” Ron asked nervously.

“I’m the only Slytherins here. At least, I haven’t seen any others. _Herpetology_.” The blank wall slid to reveal the entrance to their common room and Harry led them in, “And I know I’m the only one in my year. Besides, I have to show you something.”

He brought Ron upstairs and hurried to grab the cloak.

“I’m not sure what it is-“ Harry began.

"I've heard of those," Ron interrupted, "If that's what I think it is -- they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?" Harry asked eagerly.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is – Can I see it?”

Harry handed the cloak to Ron who wrapped himself in it.

“Wow! It is! I'd give anything for one of these. Anything.” He said gleefully.

“So you’ve heard of them? I don’t know who sent it. There wasn’t a signature.” Harry said.

Ron ran to look in Malfoy’s mirror, twisting and turning to see himself from every angle, even though you could only see his head.

“That’s weird,” Ron finally said, disentangling himself.

“Right. I was thinking I’d sneak to the library tonight and look for Nicholas Flamel. We know he’s an alchemist now. We can check the restricted section and everything.” Harry said.

“I probably shouldn’t go. Percy’s been a lot more strict since there’s so few left. Two of those being Fred and George. Let me know what you find though. Now, come on. Let’s go outside. We can borrow Fred and George’s brooms and take turns.” Ron said.

Draco waited a few seconds after Harry had gone from the room before he jumped to his feet to pull on a coat and shoes. In his haste, he didn’t notice Blaise pulling his own hangings back until he spoke.

“Please tell me you aren’t going after him,” Blaise said tiredly.

Draco jumped, whirling around to look at Blaise who look both exhausted and exasperated.

“I told you. I overheard them talking about that oaf,” Draco said, “They’re up to something, alright? I’m going to see what it is.”

“So what if they’re up to something? I thought you were done trying to get him expelled after you both saved the muggleborn girl.”

“Quit bringing that up,” Draco rolled his eyes, “And I’m not going to get them expelled, I just want to know what’s going on. He’s been acting odd, haven’t you noticed? They’re whispering about Flamel and dogs and-“

“Literally no one else has noticed because that’s mad,” Blaise said firmly, “I thought Snape warned you about getting close with him.”

“I’m not,” Draco snapped. He and Harry couldn’t spend thirty minutes together without getting into a row. He also didn’t appreciate Blaise bringing up the talk he’d had with Snape, “Go back to sleep, Zabini.”

Blaise rolled his eyes but pulled his hangings closed and Draco finished pulling on his shoes.

Luckily, Draco didn’t run into any professors or prefects on his way down to the grounds. He wasn’t sure yet how Harry got away with it so often, considering he and Weasley were about as subtle as an acromantula. Although, he wouldn’t put it past Granger to have figured something out.

However, for all the scheming Harry had been doing, Draco would never have expected to see what he did through Hagrid’s window.

Harry, Weasley, and Granger were huddled around the wooden table in the hut. Hagrid was moving something from the fireplace to the table, using two great tongs. Even through the dirty window, Draco recognized it immediately. Hagrid had a dragon egg, and it had started to hatch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope everyone is staying healthy and happy and reading entirely too much fanfiction<33


	4. Hands Are Tied

When Harry returned to the common room after dinner, Malfoy was standing on a table, doing a rather impressive impression of Hermione in potions class.

Harry hadn’t spoken to Malfoy since the night he discovered Flamel on Dumbledore’s chocolate frog card. It felt like it had been longer than a couple of months ago, what with the mirror of Erised and Hagrid’s new pet dragon.

He wondered if he could get away with defending Hermione in front of the other Slytherins, but Malfoy’s triumphant look told him otherwise. He had seen the dragon that night, and until Ron’s brother came to get Norbert, Harry didn’t want to risk him going to a teacher.

Instead, he headed straight for the stairs leading down to the dorm. He had a few hours until it was his turn to sneak out and help Hagrid with Norbert. He traded the invisibility cloak with Ron and Hermione in shifts since they were all too busy to do it every night.

He worked a bit on an essay before he got bored and pulled out a copy of a quidditch book from the library. Around ten, the other boys came up and Harry waited until he heard Goyle’s snoring before he grabbed the cloak and headed up to the common room. Malfoy was alone, studying.

Harry quickly hid the cloak behind his back, breathing out a sigh of relief that Malfoy hadn’t seen it.

“Potter,” Malfoy said, looking up from his transfiguration notes with a smirk, “Another midnight trip to visit the oaf? Has that shack burned down yet?”

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry asked tiredly. He knew the position he was in. Malfoy could go to Snape or McGonagall and have Harry caught. Never mind the fact that the dragon would be found out.

Malfoy’s smirk faded and he looked back down at his notes.

“I want to know why you think you’re too good for my friendship,” Malfoy said stiffly, “Twice, you’ve turned me down now. I usually don’t offer a second time.”

“You want to talk about this now?” Harry asked incredulously.

“We could talk about the dragon. Or where in Merlin’s name you found an invisibility cloak.”

Harry flinched, tightening his grip behind his back.

“How do you know about the cloak?” He demanded.

“You had to have some way to sneak around so much without being caught. And I saw you use it last night. It’s really something, isn’t it? Well, Potter, which conversation would you like to have?”

Harry glared at him, then glanced at his watch. Hagrid would be expecting him.

“Fine, since you know about the cloak, you can come along. I don’t have time to sit and chat.” He grumbled and finally brought his cloak out from behind his back. If Malfoy was with him, he wouldn’t have to worry about him telling a professor. Malfoy wasn’t that stupid.

Malfoy’s eyes found it immediately and Harry could see the indecision in them. His desire to use the cloak must have overpowered his fear of being caught because he put aside his book and papers and rose to join Harry.

It felt more crowded under the cloak, even though that couldn’t be true since he, Hermione, and Ron had fit under it just a month or so ago. Malfoy seemed to stay close to Harry’s back and jumped at every little noise. When they left the castle and started their walk across the grounds, they finally spoke.

“So? Are you going to answer my question?” Malfoy asked, tugging on the back of Harry’s sweater.

“You’re really asking me why we aren’t friends? When you’re blackmailing me just to ask the question?” Harry asked.

“Yes.” Malfoy said immediately.

Harry huffed, carefully picking his way down the path to Hagrid’s. Considering how close Malfoy was to him, one wrong move could send both of them tumbling down.

“Let me think, you treat me and my friends like rubbish. You’ve turned our whole house against me.”

“We were getting along that night in the common room before Christmas! Before you refused to tell me why you wanted to know about Flamel. I assume you’ve figured whatever it was out by now.” Malfoy said.

“Not exactly and I told you. It’s complicated. I can’t tell you.”

“But you can tell Weasel and Granger?” Malfoy demanded.

“Ron and Hermione are my friends. And they treat me like it.”

Malfoy was quiet the rest of the trip, and when they got to Hagrid’s, he stayed in the corner while Harry dealt with Norbert, Hagrid watching him carefully all the while.

When it was finally time to go and they had both ducked under the cloak, Malfoy spoke again.

“So if I’m nicer to you, and to your pet Gryffindors, we can be friends.”

Harry glanced at him but it was too dark to see his face.

“That would be a start, though I mean all the time. No more stunts like that in the common room tonight. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s hell for me in Slytherin.”

“I’ve noticed,” Malfoy muttered.

“Besides, it shouldn’t be hard to be nice if you want to be our friend. We saved each other’s life with the troll and you followed me there anyway. That says something.” Harry pointed out.

Malfoy grumbled something intelligible.

“What?” Harry asked.

“I said my father wouldn’t be happy if he heard I was friends with a blood traitor and a muggleborn. I’m not even sure he’d be happy if I were friends with you.” Malfoy explained.

“Well,” Harry said, “I guess you have a choice to make.”

They were quiet for the rest of the trip, all the way up until they climbed the stairs to their dormitory. Malfoy was about to climb into his bed when Harry said, “Malfoy?”

Malfoy turned to look at him.

“I wouldn’t blame you for your parents. You know that, right?”

Malfoy gave a funny little nod and then climbed into bed and pulled his hangings closed.

True to his word, Malfoy again stopped tormenting them, though it was more like he started ignoring them what with how distracted he became with studying for exams. He’d snap whenever anyone so much as closed their trunk too loudly in their dormitory and forced anyone who happened by to quiz him in every subject.

Hermione was no better. She had started drawing up study schedules and color coding all her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same.

Harry took to hiding out with Ron out by the lake or at Hagrid’s to avoid all the stress.

Harry seemed to be the only one worrying about the stone. Hermione usually cut him off with, “Dumbledore knows what he’s doing.” Ron claimed that he had enough to worry about already, including how he was going to scrape by in potions and history of magic.

Harry started going by Fluffy’s door whenever he could to press his ear against it to make sure they were still guarding the trap door. Hermione would give an exasperated huff whenever he showed up to potions out of breath from running.

His scar had also been hurting more than ever since his trip into the forest with Hermione when they’d encountered Voldemort. Hermione was so focused, she even waved this off, though she always turned several shades paler.

It was a relief when they had finally finished their last exam, though it was soured exponentially when they discovered that Snape would be making an attempt at the stone that very night.

When Harry emerged into the common room, invisibility cloak in hand, Malfoy was once again waiting there.

“Please tell me you aren’t sneaking out again. Do you want to get expelled?” He asked.

“This is important.” Harry told him, “We have to.”

“We? You’ll really get caught if Weasel’s going. He’s about as subtle as a mountain troll,” Malfoy drawled, but Harry wasn’t fooled. “Is this Flamel related? I did some research. The elixir of life I was talking about? I’ve heard you lot muttering about a stone. I’m not an idiot.”

“Malfoy, it’s very important. It’s a matter of life and death,” Harry said.

“Eternal life, maybe. Are you stealing it?”

“No! But someone is. We’re going to stop them.” Harry said and Malfoy scoffed.

“A few first years? Fat chance, Potter. How do you even know who’s stealing it?”

“I have to go or we’ll miss our chance. Please, just trust me, and if anyone comes around, cover for me? They’ll trust you. They think we hate each other.” Harry said, sweeping the cloak over his shoulders.

Malfoy regarded him for several moments before he finally sighed.

“Fine, but I want a full explanation when this is over. I hate being kept out of the loop.”

“Deal.” “Harry grinned.

He carefully made his way to the seventh floor without any more interruptions and waited outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. A few minutes later, Ron and Hermione climbed out. They performed a quick check to make sure they fit under the cloak alright. They all had to crouch to keep their ankles from showing but otherwise, they were okay.

Under the cloak, It took no time to get back to the third floor. When they arrived, the door was already open.

“Snape’s already gone through,” Harry said grimly.

Inside the room, the dogs were sniffing the air and under their legs, Harry could see the trapdoor.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

They stepped into the room.

“Here, I brought this,” Harry said, pulling the flute he’d gotten from Hagrid out of his robes. 

Hermione put Hagrid's flute to her lips and blew. She played a simple melody, some song that Harry vaguely recognized from the telly. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased -- it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back.

"I’ll go first,” Harry gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing – there’s no sign of a bottom.”

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope..."

And Harry let go.

“I think you owe me an explanation, Potter.” Malfoy said, dropping into the seat across from Harry.

Harry, who had literally just been released from the Hospital Wing to attend the End-of-the-Year feast, wanted to tell him to shove off. But he had made a deal. Quickly, he told him everything that had happened.

Malfoy flinched horribly when Harry mentioned Voldemort and scoffed when Harry admitted they had suspected Snape for most of the year.

“So three first-years got through the teacher’s defenses?” He said when they had finished, “That’s got to be embarrassing, hasn’t it?”

Thankfully, Dumbledore finally arrived. Harry was starving.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and forty-seven points; in third, Slytherin, with three hundred and eighty-seven; Hufflepuff has four hundred and twenty-six and Ravenclaw, four hundred and forty-seven."

The Slytherin and Gryffindor tables erupted into groans. Glares were thrown his way. Over at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione were getting the same treatment.

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Ravenclaw table.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Ravenclaw," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Ravenclaws' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes...

"First -- to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

Harry craned his head to see Ron across the hall. Ron’s face had gone very red. His brothers were clapping him on the back, Fred and George whooping loudly.

"... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

It was Gryffindor’s turn to burst into cheers. Harry clapped just as hard, even as every Slytherin gave him an unimpressed look.

At last there was silence again.

"Second -- to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves -- they were a hundred points up and tied with Ravenclaw.

"Third --There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award five points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Harry clapped a bit slower this time. Hermione had mentioned something about Neville when they’d visited him in the hospital wing but he hadn’t been fully paying attention. Neville seemed similarly confused. He was turning quite pink as Ron pounded him on the back.Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had –four hundred and fifty-two, five points more than Ravenclaw.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

“Fourth, to Draco Malfoy…”

Malfoy jerked his head up to stare at Dumbledore. Harry was just as surprised. Whispers travelled down each table. No one had heard that Malfoy had been there that night.

“For having the mind to recognize both darkness and light within ourselves and making the right choice,” At this, Malfoy swiveled to stare at Harry, “I award five points.”

The Slytherins muttered among themselves in confusion. Malfoy wilted a little in his seat.

"Finally -- to Mr. Harry Potter... " said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Slytherin house sixty points."

There was chaos. Slytherin had surpassed Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and were tied with Gryffindor -- if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.

Dumbledore waited for the Hall to die down.

"Which means," Dumbledore said calmly, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the blue hangings became scarlet and the bronze became green; the huge eagles vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion or Slytherin serpent took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't been changed one jot, despite having won- well, tied for- the house cup for him. This didn't concern Harry nearly as much as it should have. Next term was looking bright. He might even be liked by his housemates.

It was the best evening of Harry's life. Slytherins cheered, a few even clapping him on the back and congratulating him, Malfoy stared at him for most of the night, Ron and Hermione ran to give them hugs, Hermione’s face still streaked with tears.

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years, followed closely by Malfoy, who had resolutely not commented on the fact he’d been beaten by a muggleborn.

Before he knew it, he had his trunk packed and was loading it onto the train with Ron and Hermione. He closed the compartment door and sat to spend the last pleasant moments he would have for a whole summer- with his friends.

“Draco, what’s the matter?” Pansy’s simper startled Draco out of his reverie. He’d been staring out the window at the countryside that was disappearing as they got closer and closer to London.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Blaise said when Draco didn’t answer, “He’s nervous about what his parents will say about his involvement with the stone.”

“I wasn’t involved,” Draco muttered.

Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy had all been playing a game of exploding snap, though Draco had declined. Blaise was right, of course, his stomach was in knots. Surely, Snape would have made good on his word and written to his parents.

“Then why did Dumbledore give you points then?” Blaise asked.

“Because he’s an old codger. I just talked to Harry that night, alright? I knew he was going, but I didn’t help or anything.”

“It is odd. Can’t you just tell them that?” Pansy asked.

“Please, like they’ll accept that. And then they’ll wonder why I didn’t turn Harry in, especially considering Quirrell was trying to bring Him back.”

“They don’t really want Him back,” Blaise said reasonably, “And _Potter”_ this he said rather pointedly, “Probably would have just hexed you.”

“Maybe,” Draco said, thinking of Harry threatening him that night at the beginning of the school year.

They arrived sooner than he would have liked. He could see his parents from the window as the train rolled to a stop.

“Write me,” Pansy said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Blaise clapped him on the back. Crabbe and Goyle waved as they left the compartment.

“Darling,” Narcissa said, once Draco had approached her. Despite the endearment, her tone had no warmth. This wasn’t what made him nervous, however. His mother was generally frigid in public.

What made him nervous was that his father didn’t say a word to him, just offered his arm for side-along.

A stomach-turning apparition later, he landed steady on his feet in their drawing room. His mother snapped her fingers and one of their house elves appeared to take his trunk.

“Draco,” Lucius said, and to his surprise, he didn’t sound entirely angry. His voice was tight, either with nerves or excitement, and Draco noticed he was fiddling with his left sleeve absent-mindedly, “We have much to discuss.”

Narcissa put her arm around Draco’s shoulders and squeezed him tightly. Draco closed his eyes as he leaned into her warmth. 

“Dobby?” She called, stepping away from him, “Make sure the elves have started on lunch and serve it in the dining room.” She disappeared through the door, leaving Draco with his father.

“Are you angry?” Draco asked, unable to help himself. Usually that question would have earned him a sharp look. It wasn’t the Malfoy way to ask questions so openly. Draco had been taught how to read social clues before he’d ever picked up a book.

“Let’s move into the dining table, Draco,” Lucius said firmly, “Who knotted your tie? I know you were taught better than that.”

Draco’s hand moved unconsciously to his throat as his father swept by him. His stomach was still squirming, and he knew it wasn’t entirely from the apparition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So this is the end of the first book. Book 2 should start being posted soon. Sorry if it feels too rushed, I honestly didn't want to just repeat the story that everyone knows so I tried to just hit the important bits. It will definitely start picking up around the third book because I have PLANS. Thanks to everyone who read this/commented/left kudos. I love you forever.


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